Seat of my pants

Hmm. The thing about having a kid home again is that life gets more complicated. There seems to be more arranging and discussing. It’s harder to get out of the house in the mornings.

This is not really a bad thing — it’s nice, after all, to have another person to talk to. It’s just that we’d gotten used to a quieter life, and now it’s more exciting again.

This may explain why I have started falling asleep on the couch at 8 pm. Maybe.

Still reading Lives. I like it, in that it’s interesting. It’s really interesting, actually. I’ve learned what Dickinson was reading, and who she corresponded with. It gives her more of a context — she’s of the same time period as, or 10-15 years younger than George Eliot and the Brontes, and they influenced her. The author speculates that she became a recluse because she had epilepsy, which seems a reasonable conclusion. The book is slightly annoying because it quotes pieces of poems that I don’t know. I guess I should read it in conjunction with a copy of all her poems. But it is interesting —

Okay — time for lunch.

I feel like I haven’t quite caught my stride after being away — here’s hoping things settle down and I do.


4 thoughts on “Seat of my pants

  1. I have trouble with those sorts of adjustments too. Houseguests are the same way. And being a houseguest also. I get crabby when I come home from NY because I get used to being by myself. It doesn’t matter how much I miss them. The total lack of negotiation is freeing.

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